


louis xiii (and its all on me)

by falloutgirl



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Praise Kink, Stripper Kyungsoo, Yifan is rich, endearments during sex, this is so self indulgent i won't even begin to describe....it HURTS to be me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 05:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17419550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutgirl/pseuds/falloutgirl
Summary: “Yifan,” Kyungsoo says, Yifan, Yifan, Yifan. “A sexy name for a sexy man,” Kyungsoo’s smile is devilish. “I can’t wait to scream it soon.”“Oh God,” Yifan says, covering his face with his hands, “oh fuck.”“Come on big boy,” Kyungsoo mutters, “I’m gonna tell you how to fuck me.”





	louis xiii (and its all on me)

**Author's Note:**

> well..happy birthday kyungsoo...i am 3 days late but you know what? everyday is your birthday to me lolol. fic born out of me listening to rihanna's bitch better have my money on repeat and having a visceral desire to see kyungsoo SHAKE his fat ass. i need it. im fucking obsessed with his ass...dear lord...
> 
> in any case, lets go first fic of 2019!!! enjoy ! xoxo

It’s easy for Kyungsoo to spot him out in the crowd, because he’s always the one he’s looking for.

Oh, his favorite patron being over six feet tall in a crowd of men who are even _shorter_ than Kyungsoo helps too, but the shock of nearly platinum white hair coupled with those yellow tinted sunglasses gets to his gut every single time. It’s enough of a kickstart for Kyungsoo to really get into his routine now, slim fingers winding around the thick pole in the middle of the stage. His one hand nearly doesn’t wrap around it, and Kyungsoo likes to imagine that’s _Mr. Wu_.

Kyungsoo swirls around the pole, once, twice, pulling himself just a little bit off the ground. The crowd is loud behind him, while the music’s bass line is heavy in his ears. He’s not usually on the pole—that’s reserved for Chanyeol, of course—but tonight is different.

Tonight, Kyungsoo wants to get what’s _his_.

He lands back on the ground safely, keeps one hand on the pole, while he taps his thigh, arches his back, and makes his ass look even bigger than it already is. He smacks it, three times, just for good measure, enough to see the sleazy men in the front row drooling as they all outcompete each other in throwing money at Kyungsoo’s feet. The adrenaline rush takes over, and Kyungsoo finishes the rest of the simple routine in relative ease.

He climbs up the pole, holds himself, spins around, swirls, holds again. He gets back to the ground, on his knees, crawls across the floor to where the money is all at, and shakes his ass in the air. He gets closer than he usually would to the first row, but he’s putting on a _show_ , he lets the men press their benjamins into his skin tight booty shorts, lets them roam their hands around his thighs—just a little bit.

When Kyungsoo gets back to the pole and looks up, he sees _him_ watching. _Good,_ he thinks, _yes, baby, watch me_. Kyungsoo doesn’t break eye contact when he does his last spin, twirl, and hold. Mr. Wu is sitting close to the stage, but never close enough. Always removed, always polite. Always so _humble_ with his money—like he doesn’t drop nearly three hundred dollars in Kyungsoo’s belt during a lap dance. Like he doesn’t always leave extra in Kyungsoo’s back pockets. _Just in case._ Kyungsoo doesn’t look away from him when he grabs both cheeks of his ass and _squeezes_ , letting the supple flesh bounce when he lets it go.

He definitely doesn’t look away when he falls to his knees, parallel to the edge of the stage, back arched higher than before, ass on display.

Before the lights cut off, Kyungsoo watches _Mr. Wu_ look away.

 _Oh, he’s always been too easy_.

***

“You really had them eating out of your hand out there, Soo,” Chanyeol says, backstage, when Kyungsoo is starting to peel off all the makeup and change back into normal clothes.

“I sure did,” he grins, holding his duffle back—now nearly three thousand dollars heavier—closer to his side.

“But you only have eyes for one, huh,” Chanyeol snorts.

“Shut up,” Kyungsoo says, grumbling. Now that the night is over, he’s exhausted, but still with too much adrenaline in his body. He did three solo shows tonight, more than he’s ever done, and his favorite customer was here the _whole_ night.

“Mr. Wu only has eyes for you,” Chanyeol snorts, “all of us know it.”

“Mr. Wu’s kinda sexy, isn’t he?”

“More so.”

“He’s mine,” Kyungsoo says, before realizing he said those words out loud.

“I know,” Chanyeol says, holding in a laugh, “dear God, do I _know_.”

Kyungsoo grunts and Chanyeol laughs some more in reply.

***

When Kyungsoo gets out of the club, it’s a race to get to his car fast enough before any of the men he just danced in front of see him. He didn’t do any private shows tonight, so surely he knows some people are pissed, but. Kyungsoo’s taken a gamble here. He’s hoping it pays off.

Once he’s outside he sees exactly who’s he’s looking for.

“You weren’t available tonight,” Mr. Wu says, still behind those yellow sunglasses, still with that shock of white hair. He’s wearing a gaudy fur coat right now, while a cigarette hangs out of left hand, between two thick fingers. Kyungsoo hates the way he dresses. _Hates it._ But he sure fucking loves that face.

“Sorry, sir,” Kyungsoo says reflexively, and also because he knows it’ll get a rise out of Mr. Wu. “No private shows tonight.”

“That’s too bad,” Mr. Wu says, and Kyungsoo can count the gaps in his armor. Can count the little cracks that he’s gonna stick his fingers in, to break him apart. Mr. Wu flexes the fingers of his hand that’s not holding a cigarette. He looks at Kyungsoo, smirk playing on his features, as he lifts his other hand to take one, long pull.

“So, are you ever gonna take me home or what?” Kyungsoo says.

Mr. Wu nearly coughs up his lung.

Kyungsoo snorts to himself. He should feel bad, but he doesn’t, not one bit, because Mr. Wu is his _favorite_ patron, _favorite_ customer, _favorite_ game.

“Wh-what?” Mr. Wu says, inelegantly. _First armor plate off._

“I said,” Kyungsoo bats his long eyelashes, licks his _very_ full lips, “are you ever going to take me home? Or do I need to find another man to do it for you?”

The _growl_ Mr. Wu lets out is _obscene_. Kyungsoo wants to hear it in his ear. Kyungsoo wants to feel it against his cheek. But Kyungsoo wants to watch him _beg_ even more.

“No one else,” Mr. Wu grunts out, “is needed.”

Kyungsoo smiles. “So which one’s your car?”

***

 _Of course Mr. Wu owns the Ferrari,_ Kyungsoo thinks as he settles in for the ride. The interior is all sleek and expensive, and it certainly dawns more on Kyungsoo now than ever before that Mr. Wu isn’t just rich with a disposable income—but rich with money to blow. To burn maybe even, and still enough left over to blow again.

When they pull up to his house in Apgujeong, Kyungsoo snorts. _Of course_.

“It’s just one of many,” Mr. Wu says, non sequitur. Kyungsoo offers him a small smile, marginally impressed—but _burning_ on the inside.

“It’s cute,” Kyungsoo says, and then watches the way the vein in Mr. Wu’s forehead jumps. _He’s cute_.

Mr. Wu parks his car in the garage and they quietly make their way inside. He seems fidgety, hands clenching and unclenching multiple times as he leads Kyungsoo past the vast entryway. Kyungsoo kicks his shoes off near the door and places them next to Yifan's on the rack, before follows slowly behind him. He looks at the the ornate couch, Yifan motions too, but pays it no real mind, until they both make it into the kitchen. 

“Can I get you a dri—” 

Kyungsoo pushes him against the refrigerator, roughly, and sticks his tongue down Mr. Wu’s throat, his duffle bag falling at his feet. Kyungsoo grabs Mr. Wu’s jaw, holding it tightly between two hands, while he gets up on his tiptoes to reach his mouth.

“This would work better if you get down here,” Kyungsoo bites out breathless, “come on _big boy_ , let me fucking kiss you.”

“D-D.O.,” Mr. Wu stutters out, in shock, eyes glossy.

“It’s actually Kyungsoo,” he replies, “you now have the privilege of my first name. Use it wisely.”

“F-fuck,” Mr. Wu says, “ _fuck_.” He cups Kyungsoo’s face and kisses him back fiercely, pushing against Kyungsoo in his mouth.

“Nuh uh uh,” Kyungsoo whispers, biting Mr. Wu’s bottom lip, “come on Mr. Wu, where’s the bedroom?”

“Y-Yifan,” he mutters out, in shock and breathless.

Kyungsoo gives him a curious look, running his thumb over Mr. Wu’s bottom lip.

“Please… call me Yifan,” he continues, “that’s my name.”

“Yifan,” Kyungsoo says, _Yifan, Yifan, Yifan._ “A sexy name for a sexy man,” Kyungsoo’s smile is devilish. “I can’t wait to scream it soon.”

“Oh _God,_ ” Yifan says, covering his face with his hands, “oh _fuck_.”

“Come on big boy,” Kyungsoo mutters, “I’m gonna tell you how to _fuck_ me.”

Mr. Wu— _Y_ _ifan’s_ —answering whimper is enough.

***

Kyungsoo gets Yifan on his back in his huge four poster—typical—bed, covered in down pillows, expensive sheets, and everything else that the filthier than rich have. _It’s so fucking hot._

“Mmm,” Kyungsoo breathes out, “you’ve always been so _good_ to me, Yifan,” he nibbles on his ear. Kyungsoo is still in his sweats and hoodie that he wore from the club, but he’s gotten Yifan down to just his undershirt and boxers now. Kyungsoo runs his palm just lightly over where the _very noticeable_ bulge in Yifan’s boxers is. _Yummy,_ he thinks. Yifan moans at the lightest touch.

“You’re always so caring, so _considerate_ ,” Kyungsoo continues, “always ask me for permission before you touch me, even during the private dances.”

Yifan _whines_ at the praise. _Crack in his armor number 2,_ Kyungsoo smirks to himself.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Kyungsoo whispers, plump lips sucking a mark under Yifan’s left ear, “we aren’t supposed to let anyone touch us. It’s against the policy… but you’re always so sweet, baby. So, so, _so_ sweet.”

“D-Kyungsoo,” Yifan’s voice cracks, hips moving up of his own volition. _Crack number 3._ Kyungsoo’s moves up into a sitting position, getting himself situated on Yifan’s thick thighs.

“What do you want, baby?” Kyungsoo asks.

“Fuck,” Yifan says, running a hand through his hair, “You’re _killing_ me here,” he whimpers.

“I know.”

“I wanted to lead,” Yifan says, eyes turning away, “I want to make you… feel good.”

“You’ve been dropping nearly a thousand bucks on me a month since you started visiting the club last year,” Kyungsoo murmurs, fingers digging into the ‘v’ of Yifan’s hips. “Was that your way of courting me? Through money and telepathy?”

“Uh…”

“Exactly,” Kyungsoo smiles, “Would you have ever asked me out?”

“Um…”

“Right.”

“I—” Yifan cuts himself off, mouth pursed, “I didn’t want to embarrass myself,” he admits, “I’m not good around cute boys.” He pouts. _He honest to god, pouts_. Kyungsoo fears for his health.

“‘Cute’, huh?” he digs his fingers deeper into Yifan’s skin.

“That came out… wrong?”

“I like being called cute,” Kyungsoo admits, “better than slut or whore.”

“You’re very cute, then,” Yifan says, smiling, trying to butter Kyungsoo up.

“I still like being called a ‘slut’ and a ‘whore’ though,” he shrugs.

Yifan deflates, “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Especially by strong,” Kyungsoo squeezes Yifan’s bicep, “big,” he runs his hand over Yifan’s clothed dick again, “beautiful men,” he caresses Yifan’s cheek. Kyungsoo watches a shudder ripple through Yifan’s entire body.

“It’s okay, baby,” Kyungsoo says, reaching up to pat Yifan’s cheek, “soon you’ll learn.”

Yifan chokes on his spit.

“Mhmm,” Kyungsoo says, rubbing his hands all down Yifan’s chest. He pinches his nipples and watches the way Yifan suppresses a moan. Kyungsoo bats his chest. “No, I wanna hear you.”

“Wha?”

“Everything,” he repeats, “I wanna hear _everything_.”

“Jesus fucking D—Kyungsoo,” Yifan whines, “I… I never thought…”

“I know, my sweet baby,” Kyungsoo really lathers it on now, just to be an ass, but also to watch the way Yifan’s eyes flutter whenever he says _baby_. Kyungsoo takes off his hoodie and reveals his bare chest. He watches Yifan’s hand reach out to touch, before he jerks it back to himself.

“C-can I… touch you?” Yifan asks.

“Always so polite,” Kyungsoo murmurs, “even when I’m half naked on top of you… always so sweet to me.”

“Please,” he begs.

“Baby, you don’t have to ask me,” Kyungsoo runs his hands across Yifan’s nipples again.

“I want to though.”

This time, Kyungsoo _moans_.

“Fuck, how are you real,” he says, “ _Fuck_ , Yifan, _fuck_.”  Kyungsoo pushes himself back up Yifan’s body and grabs his face, pushing and licking his way inside Yifan’s mouth. Yifan goes pliant immediately, nearly boneless, fully relinquishing control of himself to Kyungsoo’s ministrations. He runs a hand through Yifan’s hair, ruining it, pulling the strands and scratching his scalp. Yifan moans right into Kyungsoo’s mouth.

He swallows every single one.

“Touch me, big boy,” Kyungsoo breathes, “come on put your arms around me, take off my pants.”

The permission Yifan receives springs him into action almost immediately. He works with pushing Kyungsoo’s sweats and boxers off as far as he can with his arms, before kicking it off Kyungsoo’s body the rest of the way, using his legs. Kyungsoo’s cock is hard already, leaking just a little bit at the top. Kyungsoo lays himself down on top of Yifan, to get their faces aligned, his cock pressed tight between their bodies. Yifan places his hands gently at Kyungsoo’s hips, a soft, warm presence, while Kyungsoo continues to lick his mouth. There’s spit forming at the corner of his lips from where the kiss is getting just a little too messy, and Kyungsoo pulls back from Yifan’s mouth to lick a stripe across his mouth.

“Aren’t you gonna take your boxers off too?” Kyungsoo giggles. He watched the way Yifan’s eyes shoot open as he peels the offending article of clothing off his body. Kyungsoo looks down between their bodies to stare at Yifan’s cock, long and thick, just like the rest of him. He wipes the drool from his mouth before Yifan can see it.

“Touch my ass,” Kyungsoo whispers, “I fucking know you want too.”

Yifan moans, hides his face by turning away.

“Baby,” Kyungsoo says, cupping his face, “you’re so fucking hot when you’re shy. Come on, come on. I’m telling you to do something now. So do it.”

And the firm prodding is enough for Yifan to look into Kyungsoo’s eyes, as he grabs both of Kyungsoo’s ass cheeks in either hand and _squeezes_.

They let out moans at the same time.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yifan says, big, heavy palms kneading into the supple flesh of Kyungsoo’s ass, “it’s so round, it’s so _big_.”

“I’m glad someone likes my ass,” Kyungsoo jokes.

“ _I_ _fucking love it_ ,” Yifan says, with a finality in his tone that brokers no criticism. It sends a shiver up and down Kyungsoo’s spine. Yifan squeezes his ass again, lets the flesh jiggle between his fingers, lets it mold under his touch. He _moans_ , as his fingers trail across Kyungsoo’s ass.

“I’ve wanted to touch this for so long,” Yifan whines.

“I bet,” Kyungsoo murmurs, sucking a mark under Yifan’s jaw. “Where’s your supplies?”

Yifan reaches over into the nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. Kyungsoo looks at him, smirk evident on his features.

“Today’s my birthday, did you know?”

“No,” Yifan says, “Happy Birthday,” he adds.

“Oh, it’s about to be,” Kyungsoo smiles at him. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I want for my gift?”

“W-what is it?” Yifan feels sweat drip down his eyebrow. Kyungsoo likes the scared look in his eyes.

Kyungsoo gets real close to him, whispers in his ear, “I want you to come _inside_ me.”

Yifan’s answering cough is enough to make Kyungsoo smile.

“You’re clean right?”

Yifan nods, and tries not to think about the fact that he hasn’t had sex in like… six months? He’s been busy, okay. Just… _really_ busy. Spending money frivolously but. _Busy._

“Me too,” Kyungsoo agrees, “mmhmm, I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Please,” Yifan replies, “if you keep talking like that I might come before I’m anywhere close to your ass.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to get you hard again, right?”

Yifan smacks a hand to his face, covers his eyes, “Soo, Soo, _please_.”

Kyungsoo laughs, deep and hearty the sound reverberating in the large bedroom.

“Baby… you’re really easy to rile up.”

Yifan huffs, and Kyungsoo answers that by rolling off him and getting onto his hands and knees on the bed, showing his ass to Yifan.

Yifan moves ungracefully behind Kyungsoo, cupping his cheeks again in his hands. “When you did that final move on stage… when your back was so deeply arched… _fuck_ ,” he says.

“It was all for you,” Kyungsoo agrees, turning his head to look Yifan in the eyes. “I wanted to look good for you,” he smirks.

Yifan grabs the lube and drizzles it down across Kyungsoo’s ass, watching the way it slowly drips through the crack. Yifan runs his fingers delicately over Kyungsoo’s hole, and watches as Kyungsoo’s body reacts.

“Hurry up,” Kyungsoo moans out, “stretch me out with those big hands of yours or I will make you _watch_ me do it myself.”

“Yes, sir,” Yifan says reflexively, before he realizes what he’s just uttered.

Kyungsoo looks back at him, shit eating grin in place, “‘Sir’, huh?”

“Um…”

“Something for us to explore for the next time,” Kyungsoo winks at Yifan, watches the way his eyes flutter close.

“Next time,” Yifan repeats.

“Many more to come,” Kyungsoo says. _Crack number 4._

Yifan hurriedly nods, before Kyungsoo motions for him to start. Kyungsoo lowers himself down to his forearms to rest, relishing in the way that Yifan’s warmth feels behind his body. He’s slowly working one finger inside Kyungsoo now, languid and methodical. “I’m not a china doll,” Kyungsoo says, “you can’t break me.”

“Maybe I can,” Yifan fires back, eyes twinkling, and it makes Kyungsoo laugh, there’s Mr. Wu—even if it’s only a little bit.

“I’d like to see you try some day.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“Hurry up, Yifan,” Kyungsoo whines, as Yifan pushes his fingers in more, “I wanna get fucked some time this century, baby.” Yifan nods his head in concentration and works his fingers inside Kyungsoo faster. Kyungsoo arches his back more at the stretch, resting his head down on his forearm. He groans at the pressure, lets the feel of Yifan wash over him.

“Fuck, fuck, your hands are so big,” Kyungsoo whimpers, “hmm, they feel so good.”

“Th-thanks,” Yifan mumbles out, fingers brushing over Kyungsoo’s prostate.

“Argh!” Kyungsoo screams, “ _Fuck!_ Do it again, _right now_ ,” he demands. He turns around and watches Yifan swallow, eyes glassy, as he nods to himself. His fingers brush against Kyungsoo’s prostate again and Kyungsoo lets out a choked moan.

“Fuck, alright,” Kyungsoo says, batting Yifan’s hand away, “get on your back.”

“What?”

“I’m riding you, baby,” he gets up and pushes Yifan onto his back who falls easily. Kyungsoo swings a leg over his hips and hovers above him, eyes staring into Yifan's. “God, your cock is fucking huge,” Kyungsoo says.

“I know,” Yifan smirks.

“Say some shit again and I will fuck myself instead.”

“Shutting up right now.”

“See, baby? You’re already _learning_.”

Yifan lets out a guttural moan.

From there, Kyungsoo slowly lowers himself down across Yifan’s lap and onto his _fucking monster cock, thank God_. Yifan instinctively reaches his hands up for Kyungsoo’s shoulders, trying to bring him down as close as possible, giving him time to resettle into himself.

“F- _fuck_ ,” Kyungsoo’s voice cracks, “you are _so_ big. Ugh, you feel so good.”

Yifan whimpers.

“Two seconds,” Kyungsoo says, reaching out and cupping Yifan’s cheek before he plants a breathless, barely there kiss to his lips. “Then I’ll ride you like a fucking stallion,” he snorts.

“Ug- _h,_ ” Yifan grumbles, “it’s all dick jokes with you.”

Kyungsoo smiles in agreement and then starts lifting himself off Yifan’s cock. He hisses at the way it drags against him, the dull ache of being so full nearly overwhelming all his senses. Kyungsoo moves his hands to Yifan’s chest, pinching his nipples again, and grins at the way it elicits a sick, broken moan from Yifan’s mouth.

“Make noise,” Kyungsoo says, voice shaky, “I better hear you.”

“Oh- _oh_ _god_ ,” Yifan covers his face with his arm. _Crack number 5._

Kyungsoo speeds up his movements, really grinding his ass back and forth along Yifan’s cock, letting the pleasure wash over him in wave after wave as nothing but _Yifan_ takes over all of his senses. He pinches his nipples again— _just because—_ and Yifan’s knee jerk reaction to bucking his hips up pulls a startled moan out of Kyungsoo.

“Oh fuck, yeah,” Kyungsoo breathes out, “come on baby,” he encourages, “fuck up into me, I know you want too.”

Yifan plants his hips on the mattress and bucks up, unquestioning. He still has an arm over his face, and Kyungsoo just _can’t have that_.

“Didn’t I say I you need to make noise?”

“Y-y _es_ ,” Yifan cracks out, hips thrusting up.

“Move your arm,” Kyungsoo demands, “I want to see your face.”

“I’m— _oh_ —embarrassed— _fuck you’re tight_ ,” Yifan whines.

“Don’t be, baby,” Kyungsoo soothes, hips moving faster in tandem with Yifan’s movements, “let me see all of you.”

Yifan whimpers once. Then once again.

He moves his arm.

_Crack number 6._

Yifan’s face is red, splotchy, and his cheeks are _flushed_ . He looks wrecked beyond belief, _and he isn’t even the one taking the dick,_ Kyungsoo thinks. His hair is matted to his forehead, sweat beads down in drops across his cheeks.

And his eyes—

“Your eyes are shimmering, baby,” Kyungsoo coos, “ugh, _ah, ah—right there—_ ugh,” he pants, “shiny and shimmering, like a fuc _king,_ ugh, bunch of stars.”

“ _Please, sir,”_ Yifan fucking whines, voice nearly three octaves higher, uncaring that he dropped another ‘sir’, and face an absolute mess. Kyungsoo pinches his nipples again, just to watch the way Yifan chokes on his own moans. 

“I’ve been good, I’ve been good,” he repeats.

“You have,” Kyungsoo agrees, “flip us over. Take over, baby. Give me _everything_.”

Yifan nods, and does what he’s told. He rolls them over easily with barely any a fumble, and Kyungsoo’s already got his legs up, knees pressed to his chest, waiting for Yifan to reenter him.

But Yifan just hovers over him, between Kyungsoo’s legs, eyes focussed on Kyungsoo’s entire body.

“Stop staring,” Kyungsoo says, a little shaky. He’s been riling Yifan up all night, yes, but even Kyungsoo needs to take a step back from the near animalistic wildness Yifan’s got in his eyes.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Yifan says, “you leave me winded, like I’ve run a marathon.”

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo says, and he pulls his legs up higher, makes himself more open.

“Swear your ass and thighs…” Yifan’s voice becomes reverent, “they’re the most beautiful ass and thighs I have ever seen in my life.”

“You’re already fucking me, Yifan,” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “you don’t need to butter me up.”

“I will,” Yifan bends down to kiss Kyungsoo at the same time he re-enters him, “I will butter you up like a fucking bread roll.”

“Romantic,” Kyungsoo says.

“The best,” Yifan replies, and starts thrusting into Kyungsoo’s body like there is no tomorrow.

Kyungsoo reaches his hands up into Yifan’s hair and holds onto the silver and black strands for dear fucking life as Yifan fucks into him. From this angle, Yifan has more control over his movements, having taken Kyungsoo’s legs and thrown them over his shoulders.

All Kyungsoo has to do now is just lay back and enjoy the ride.

“You fuck me so good,” he murmurs, words of encouragement, “bet you could keep me on your dick all night long.”

Yifan’s thrusts stutter in motion a bit, taken aback by Kyungsoo’s words, before he smiles, “yes, yes, yes, anything for you, Soo. _Anything_.”

“You’re my good baby,” Kyungsoo groans, pulling Yifan’s hair. He watches the way Yifan’s mouth drops open in a silent groan. Kyungsoo is absolutely _delighted_. “Come on my baby,” he whispers, voice all breathy, “keep fucking me, you’re— _ugh_ —doing so well.”

“Am I?” Yifan blurts out, and it’s obvious he doesn’t mean to say by the look on his face. He turns his head away.

Kyungsoo moves a hand and grips Yifan’s jaw, “No. _Look at me_.” His tone brokers no argument.

Yifan obeys.

He looks at Kyungsoo, bottom lip jutting out, and Kyungsoo swipes a thumb over it. He basks in Yifan’s direct attention, the feel of Yifan inside him, the way he just _knows_ his lower back is gonna suffer tomorrow because of him.

Kyungsoo feels alight in a way he hasn’t in a long time, feels tender and rough in places he never thought possible. The way with which Yifan holds his gaze, reverently, adoringly, _obediently…_

Kyungsoo has never felt this euphoric before.

“Yifan,” he breathes out, voice being punched out of him with everyone of his thrusts, “you’re doing so well, so good,” Kyungsoo cups his cheek, “all for me. _All for me_. You’re so good to me.”

“Ah— _ah,_ ” Yifan moans, eyes, shiny.

“All for me, all for _me_ ,” Kyungsoo repeats, “you’re my baby now, you’re mine. _Mine_.”

“P-please, Soo,” Yifan whines, hips going more and more erratic the longer Kyungsoo speaks.

“Come for me baby, it’s okay,” Kyungsoo murmurs, thumb tracing Yifan’s bottom lip again. “I _want_ you too.”

“F _uck,_ ” Yifan says, before he pushes inside Kyungsoo all the way, so deeply inside Kyungsoo feels nothing else—

And he comes.

Kyungsoo holds his face through it, eyes never leaving Yifan’s. There’s a blissed out, sweet smile on Yifan’s face as he looks at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo has never felt like someone’s _world_ before in their entire life.

Yifan goes down on him before Kyungsoo can even say anything, takes all of Kyungsoo’s cock in his mouth like he was made to fit between Kyungsoo’s thick thighs. _Like he was made for me_ , Kyungsoo thinks, giddily, a laugh bursting out of his chest at the sight of Yifan between him, gagging on his cock, doing everything he can to make Kyungsoo _come._ To make Kyungsoo _happy_.

Kyungsoo can feel the come dripping out of him, dirtying up Yifan’s nice, expensive sheets. A flash of _he has the money to buy another set,_ goes through Kyungsoo’s mind, and he moans at the implication. Kyungsoo runs his fingers through Yifan’s hair and _tugs_. He earns himself a guttural moan around his cock for good measure.

“Happy Birthday,” Yifan says, voice raspy, Kyungsoo’s fingers still on Yifan’s scalp. “Happy fucking Birthday, Soo,” Yifan repeats, before he dives back down again, choking himself on Kyungsoo’s cock, and swallowing all of Kyungsoo’s words with him.

***

Kyungsoo jolts up in bed, awake, into a still dark room. Just the small night light on in the corner gives him some hope for his whereabouts, and the heavy arm laying across his middle reminds him of a few hours prior. He grins to himself, a big smile, and rolls over to face Yifan.   

Even in his sleep, Kyungsoo thinks he looks something like an angel. He studies his face for a long time, where he looks younger than when he’s awake, when any tension or anxiety he might’ve held tight in his jaw is lack in sleep.

Perhaps Yifan has a sixth sense for being watched, because soon enough his eyes flutter open and he wakes up from his sleep.

“Happy Birthday,” he mumbles again.

“It’s not my birthday anymore, baby,” Kyungsoo whispers, the bedside clock reading a beautiful _4:37am_ . He pushes the hair out of Yifan’s face. He’s cute. _Terribly cute._ Kyungsoo wants to keep him forever. And perhaps that should scare him maybe, Yifan’s just a stranger—a well-paying customer, even, but the fact remains that no one else has ever made Kyungsoo feel so out and inside of his element all at once. No one else has ever made Kyungsoo feel so safe and secure in their arms.

And no one else is nearly as fun to rile up.

“Everyday’s your birthday with me,” Yifan says, eyes now open, fixed on Kyungsoo. His gaze is mesmerizing. Terrifying. And other words Kyungsoo cannot commit too—not yet, anyway.  

“Everyday?”

“If…” Yifan starts, then bites his lips, “never mind it’s stupid.”

“No, baby,” Kyungsoo says, “tell me.”

The lay in silence for a moment, Kyungsoo rubbing circles on Yifan’s shoulder.

“I wanna be with you,” Yifan blurts out, “like really with you.”

“Like—”

“I wanna date you, okay,” Yifan jackhammers on, pushing past Kyungsoo, “I want to date you and cuddle you and like… fuck you and shit I don’t know.” He turns his face away, “this is so embarrassing,” he muffles into the pillow.  

“Maybe I want that with you too,” Kyungsoo smiles.

Yifan slowly turns back towards him, “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Let me pay you,” Yifan says, than slams his mouth shut.

“What the fuck?” Kyungsoo blurts out, ready to fucking go—feelings be damned, lest he beat the _shit_ out of Yifan.

“Not like that, wah!” Yifan says, voice pitchy, “wait please, please don’t leave.”

“Wu Yifan, I swear to God…”

“I won’t… I would never ask you to give up your job, okay,” Yifan starts, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to say another word, “please just let me finish.” Kyungsoo gives him a look, studies Yifan really hard, before he nods, just once.

“I put my foot in my mouth a lot, ha,” Yifan continues, “but… I mean it… I want a relationship with you, a real one okay?” He fiddles with a string hanging off one of the pillows. “I am… the very _jealous_ type. I don’t like the idea of you dancing around other men for money. But I would never ask you to leave your job… I can see how much you love it, and I love that passion? I would feel too guilty… I don’t want to hurt you. I just…” Yifan’s voice trails off and he looks at Kyungsoo again. He tentatively reaches out a hand and Kyungsoo allows him to hold onto his fingers. Yifan’s hand is soft. _Yifan’s fingers were inside him last night._ Yifan squeezes his hand.

Kyungsoo squeezes back.

“I didn’t mean… actually pay you, for like sex… I don’t see you like that, please understand,” Yifan gulps, “I just want to help you, okay? Financially. With whatever you need. You see all of this,” Yifan lets go of Kyungsoo’s hand and gestures around his bedroom, his living room, his home, his _life_. “I just wanna share it with someone.”

“You mean…” Kyungsoo says, and the gears in his head that have been turning since Yifan decided to word vomit all over him are finally clicking into place. “You want me to be your sugar baby, then?”

Yifan chokes, “Wah,” he whines, “when you say it like that… I feel like a creepy old man.”

“You are one,” Kyungsoo jabs, snickering, all tension released from him, “and it can’t be any worse than you earlier implying you were gonna pay me for sex.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters again. “I really am so…”

“I know you are,” Kyungsoo rolls over and pushes Yifan onto his back, he kisses him on the nose, runs his hands until they link with Yifan’s, pushes them into the mattress. “I accept,” Kyungsoo murmurs against kiss swollen lips.

“Wha—really?” Yifan says, eyes bright.

“You’re right,” he replies, “I won’t give up my job,” he searches Yifan’s face, “but I can cut back for someone special,” Kyungsoo grins. _Rich man. Rich life. Big heart._ Kyungsoo feels himself dry heaving internally again already.

Yifan laughs into his mouth and they make out, messy, uncoordinated, but entirely happy.

“Besides,” Kyungsoo adds, “you’ve been bankrolling me for six months now.”

“Ugh,” Yifan says, “don’t remind me.”

“Couldn’t even talk to me,” Kyungsoo traces a fingernail up Yifan’s jaw, “but totally ready to throw money my way every time.”

“It’s how I cope.”

“Impulsive, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s _sexy_ ,” Kyungsoo says, eyes twinkling, “you spending all your money on me. My big baby.”

Yifan _wails_ , and hides his face in the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck. Kyungsoo grabs his face with both hands and plants the wettest kiss on his lips.

They continue to kiss each other breathless, hands roaming all over each other’s bodies, mapping out every piece of skin within reach. Yifan’s hands settle onto Kyungsoo’s ass again—of course they do—and he squeezes the cheeks tightly, fingers pressing once again into the flesh.

“Please,” Yifan says, “just once… let me mark your ass up so much that it’ll be purple all over,” Yifan exhales into Kyungsoo’s mouth.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Kyungsoo says, grinning.

He puts his head down on Yifan’s chest, just holding him, just relaxing in this beautiful man’s presence. Kyungsoo counts Yifan’s heartbeats, in tandem with his own. _Thump, thump,  thump, thump._ The sound is rhythmic and comforting.   

“Oh,” Kyungsoo adds on, almost an afterthought, “I won’t call you daddy.”

“I figured,” Yifan laughs, and the sound is hearty.

“You’ll call me daddy,” Kyungsoo continues, looking at Yifan with a saccharine smile, “one day, you’ll look at me, when you’re fucking me, or when I’m fucking you, and you’re gonna call me your _daddy._ ”

“Ah…” Yifan’s jaw drops open and closes, several times in the span of three minutes. Kyungsoo thinks he looks like an oversized goldfish.

“And you're gonna like it, "Kyungsoo says, patting Yifan’s cheek, “but it's okay my baby, we’ll work up to it.”

Yifan huffs, cheeks red, and the sight of him flustered makes Kyungsoo burst out into a fit of giggles. His mouth stretches wide, lips forming a heart.

 _Final crack_ , Kyungsoo thinks, smirking, and when Yifan moves in to hold Kyungsoo close to his chest, Kyungsoo lets him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me here on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kimjuncottonsgf) :)


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